


The all-seeing eyes of princess Viola

by Ninhaoma



Series: Dressrosa [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It's impossible, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Depression, Teaching Dellinger to read, what's in a name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23698795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninhaoma/pseuds/Ninhaoma
Summary: Dinner was the worst.It was the only meal decreed mandatory to attend for all ‘in the family’. This, for some reason, included Violet now. She suspected that Doflamingo wanted to torture her, to remind her of her place. To drive how the idea of how very powerless she was in the face of the Family.It would have been easier to bear if it didn’t work quite so well.
Relationships: Donquixote Doflamingo/Violet
Series: Dressrosa [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751851
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	The all-seeing eyes of princess Viola

**Author's Note:**

> Implied violence and death.

“Is it true you can see everything?”

His curiosity was almost child-like.

“No.”

A sharp pain suddenly bloomed in the back of her head.

“No, _young master_ ,” a shrill voice admonished her. Viola blinked away the surprise and focused her best regal look on the middle-aged woman who had hit her. She was large lady, with a… unique sense of style, combining a poison pink dress with orange hair and mint green jewellery. Viola thought she recognised some of the pieces as being from her mothers’– she cut of the thought before it formed properly. No time to think about that now.

“I haven’t been introduced to any master, young or otherwise,” she channelled all her ancestors’ haughtiness into her address, even great-aunt Catherine who could make cream curdle with a look. “I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to _anyone_ properly, which really is a sad state of affairs, with so many new faces around.”

“Fufufufu,” even his laugh was sharp, like his cheekbones, like his shoes, like _him_. The only soft and round thing associated with him seemed to be the pink coat he had draped over his shoulders. He steepled his fingers in front of him, leaning forwards in his chair.

“That might be true. Last night was quite… eventful. I do beg your pardon, princess Viola,” with that, he rose from the chair, unfolding a surprisingly large body. Had he been so large, so imposing, yesterday as well? Or maybe the confusion of the night, the darkness and flickering lights, had played tricks on her mind. Viola blinked but didn’t move. She was a princess of Dressrosa, and no intruding ruffians would get her to back down, not in her own father’s audience chambers.

The tall man moved with surprising speed and agility, covering the distance between them with a mere few steps. He towered over her and she saw the light glint of his pink sunglasses. It almost had its own noise, the glint. Viola pictured it, a snappish, quick little sound. _Glint_. The glasses were sharp and pointed, giving him a vulture-like look.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. His lips were surprisingly soft as they brushed over the back of her hand. Viola repressed a shudder at the uncouthness of the gesture – a woman always presented her hand if she wanted this to be the way of greeting. If this… this barbarian didn’t even know such simple details, what else didn’t he know about proper etiquette?

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, princess Viola,” he smiled at her. “I’m Donquixote Doflamingo.”

Viola forced a smile as she withdrew her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she answered with the smallest curtsey she could permit in such circumstances. With that, he went around the others in the room, from the shrill woman who was apparently called Giolla, to a young boy who could be no more than six years old and was wearing a white cap, named Dellinger, to the stocky señors Pink and Machvise. There was a young man called Gladius, who looked a bit like a hedgehog, and a young girl eating grapes, who was introduced as Sugar.

“…and you know her older sister Monet, of course,” Doflamingo concluded the presentation round. “She’s overseeing the modifications needed for this place to be inhabitable.”

Viola forced her second smile of the last five minutes, “I’m sure she’ll do a wonderful job at it, she does know her way around the place so well.”

“Fufufufufu!” he laughed, seating himself again in her fathers’ chair. “You have a certain something there, my dear. Would hate for it to go to waste.”

He steepled his fingers again and seemed to ponder something for a moment, never losing his smile.

“We’ll see how the first few weeks go. You’ll report to Giolla in the morning for your assignments. You can stay in your current lodgings, but you are not to step foot outside the castle without permission from me, are we clear?”

He was still smiling, but Viola sensed a shift in the smile, from amused to cold and calculating. This was a dangerous man indeed.

“Yes… young master.”

The smile grew a fraction.

“Good.”

-_-_-

After a month, the tallest windows in the palace seemed more inviting than ever.

Doflamingo had kept his word regarding her room, but the former crown princess was constantly worked to the bone. Long days were filled with chores, combat training, and general unpleasantness.

Giolla usually dumped all the unpleasant and boring tasks on Viola, from supervising the cleaning parties to overseeing the maintenance. She didn’t mind that much, as it usually meant that she was left alone for the duration of the morning, at least.

In the afternoons, she was broken.

Viola had never been a very violent person, though her name could have suggested otherwise to someone with a slight twist in their mind. The worst thing she’d done before all _this_ happened was to tread on some ants by mistake and not ponder where her meat came from very much, thus ignoring the plight of the cows.

Now, she was made to _hurt_. To maim. To twist and to stab and to throw a knife over 30 metres, still hitting the bullseye, sweating in the afternoon sun.

And in the evening, she stood in the highest tower, at the tallest windows, gazing out over the rooftops and out to sea. The gauze curtains moved in the breeze as Viola enjoyed how swallows swooped and trilled outside; one of her few remaining pleasures. It would be so easy to just… let go.

She drew a last, deep, breath, closed the windows and drew her old and soft mantilla, reminding her of better times, of a possible future, closer around her.

One day down. Countless to go.

-_-_-

The first time she noticed something was when he brushed past her in the Colosseum corridor on their way to the Saturday show, to be enjoyed from the King’s box. Or _Pavilion_ as they called it now. It took all of Viola’s upbringing not to roll her eyes at the moniker.

The touch was featherlight.

She kept telling herself that it was just by accident, that he didn’t mean anything by it.

The corridor was just narrow, and he just walked past her, nothing more.

She knew she was lying.

-_-_-

Dellinger was a curious child, in both senses of the word.

He was interested in everything that happened in the palace and wanted to be included in everything, from choosing which flowers to plant in the garden to who should be the first victim to get their teeth ripped out.

A curious child, indeed. Violet couldn’t decide if she pitied him more than she was repulsed by his bloodlust – it is hard to determine what of a character comes from their genetics and what from upbringing, after all.

At the moment, she was mainly giving up any and all hope she had possibly nurtured for his future. He just couldn’t get her name right.

They were sitting in the library; she had been occupied with learning more about both Dressrosa’s history as well as the surrounding countries and the principal allies of the Family, while he had been practicing reading on the few children’s books available in the palace. She’d have to talk to Giolla about that, maybe they could get some new ones. Well, he had been practicing until he decided that it was much funnier to practice her name and test her patience.

Serious blue eyes considered the woman as he folded his tiny arms.

“Violin.”

“Viol-a,” she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Violate.”

Viola stared, incredulously. How hard could it be, it was a simple letter! The first one in the alphabet! He had gotten the first part already, what stopped him? “Viol- _a_ ,” she stressed.

“Violon.”

“What even is that? Viol-a. V-i-o-l-a.”

“Violence.”

“I give up,” she sighed, head falling down on her folded arms on the reading table.

“Violent.”

Viola didn’t stir.

“Violet.”

“Well, we’re back at proper names at least,” she rose, leaning her head on one hand, brow furrowed as she looked at the tiny fishman. “ _Viola_.”

“Violet.”

“Viola.”

“Violet.”

A chuckle broke the little name-focused bubble surrounding the reading table.

Viola closed her eyes and took a deep breath in a room where it felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked away.

“Young master,” she acknowledged with a small nod towards the tall man who was now leaning against the doorpost.

“Problems getting to know each other?” he inquired, loping into the room and sinking into the plush armchair facing her. Pink sunglasses glinted in the afternoon light, filtered through the stained-glass windows that had been a wedding present from Viola’s great-grandfather to her great-grandmother, who reportedly have loved the library over all other rooms in the palace. They depicted the history of Dressrosa. Viola absentmindedly noted that they’d need to update some of them soon, to accommodate for the winner’s narrative. The winner decides what is just and right, after all. A pity, she really liked them.

Viola gave the shichibukai a bland smile.

“Dellinger seems to have problems with the letter ‘a’,” she noted, marking her place and closing the book.

“Do you, Dellinger?” he turned to the child who had crawled up on the table as the grown-ups were talking.

“No! I can say A! And B and C and the whole alphabet. I’m learning to read,” he said proudly, showing Doflamingo the book he had been trying to conquer.

“Well, why don’t you call our newest family member by her name, then?” Doflamingo enquired, leaning forwards in the chair.

“Because it’s not her name,” Dellinger answered. With that his interest in the topic seemed to be extinguished, as he jumped down from the table and ran out without giving the remaining grown-ups any indication of where he was going.

“From the mouth of babes,” Doflamingo smirked, shifting his attention to Viola.

She arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in front of her.

“What do you mean?”

“Fufufu,” echoed around the room as his smile stretched even wider. His laugh was so peculiar. Viola never knew what brought it forward; Doflamingo seemed to laugh for both pain and pleasure, in joy and sorrow, at everything. “I might not go so far as to say that Viola wouldn’t suit you – everything suits a beauty, after all. But it doesn’t suit you in your new role. It might be a good idea to change it, so that you can leave your past behind you, where it belongs.”

Something cracked inside Viola’s chest.

It was her _name_. Her personality, her character, her soul. Her parents had given her that name, making her real, making her her own person. How could he even suggest something like that?

Her hands trembled as she pressed the book to the table, trying to find her centre. She stared ahead, barely conscious of the tall man encroaching on her table, on her space, on her life. She focused on the title, ‘The Combined Chronicles of Dressrosa’. Oh yes, she had just gotten to the creation of the Colosseum and how the fighters had chosen new names when they entered the arena. Mostly they did this to change their previous names; the gladiators were usually former slaves who had been given slave names by their masters.

She became aware that an expectant silence had fallen over the reading table.

“I’m sorry, got lost in my thoughts,” she said, willing her hands to still. “Could you repeat?”

“How about Violet? Dellinger would at least get it right.”

She blinked.

“Violet sounds lovely.”

-_-_-

Dinner was the worst.

It was the only meal decreed mandatory to attend for all ‘in the family’. This, for some reason, included Violet now. She suspected that Doflamingo wanted to torture her, to remind her of her place. To drive how the idea of how very powerless she was in the face of the Family.

It would have been easier to bear if it didn’t work quite so well.

-_-_-

The second time was after a particularly successful mission, executed by her and Baby 5. Although Baby 5’s ingrained need to be useful almost had ruined the whole job, as she had started to offer the guards all the information they _needed_ about why the two women had infiltrated Banaro castle, the knives Violet had taken to hiding on her person did the trick nicely.

When they returned to Dressrosa, courtesy of Buffalo, they were greeted by a welcome feast the likes Violet hadn’t seen before.

“We have to celebrate your proper initiation in the Family, after all,” Doflamingo grinned as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering her a glass. “It’s not every day you make your first kill.”

Violet repressed a shudder, hiding any possible signs of it ever existing behind a sip of the offered wine. He was correct. So horribly, terribly correct. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“It’s more than I could ever have asked for,” she demurred, trying to ignore the way his long fingers rubbed small circles on the bare skin of her shoulder; trying to ignore the fire it set of in her blood and the heat that tingled across her skin.

“Fufufufu!” he laughed, noting the double meaning behind her words. “But here it is, so enjoy it while it lasts!”

Afterwards, she threw up in the garden outside her room.

Wiping her mouth, she sank down on the hard ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and gazing at the moon, insensible of the chill permeating her very being.

-_-_-

After a while, routines were created.

She still had to keep up with the combat training and chores began so many months, even years, ago, but missions broke the tedium. She continued to supervise Dellinger’s education and helped Baby 5 through her heartbreaks; she spied and she lied and she killed.

In the evenings, locked in her own room, she soared across the island on wings made of wisps and wishes. It was a surreal feeling, to be able to see everyone and everything. But people seemed happy, at least, even though the amount of living toys seemed to be increasing slowly. She had found her father and was content that Doflamingo seemed to keep his word with regard to the old king’s safety, at least. She also found her niece and took comfort in the protection the weird little one-legged soldier offered her. She followed the tiny tontattas in their adventures, and sometimes spent hours simply circling across the blue sky as fell to dusk and the stars came out, somewhat at peace. There was laughter and smiles and passion, sparkling in the light.

In the dark, her strength wasn’t enough and her soaring wings broke apart.

-_-_-

Third time is the charm, or whatever washerwomen use to say, although Violet would argue that there was no amount of ‘charm’ in this particular setting.

She had just returned from a particularly gruelling sparring session with Lao G, wincing as she rubbed her arm; the old martial artist had managed to get it in a particularly hard twist. Inspecting the soft flesh, she grimaced at the bruises already forming from the block drill he had her practice afterwards.

As she glanced up, she started, only then noticing the large man leaning against a windowsill, looking out over the unusual storm that had engulfed the island. Rain was pattering down the windows, the wind howling around the walls and rattling the shutters. For some reason, he had opened the window he was standing at, letting the elements inside. There was already a small puddle forming on the floor and the man himself was starting to get soaked.

His usual flamboyant pink cape was nowhere to be seen. His sleeves were rolled up, and he had actually buttoned the front for once. Long legs were clad in orange capri trousers, black shoes completing the ensemble. For once, his sharp features were not stretched by a smile larger than life. Even his sunglasses seemed to be dull, merely reflecting the occasional flash of lightning outside, lacking their usual snappishness.

Violet shook herself awake and started to walk towards her rooms. _You are starting to anthropomorphise a pair of eyewear_. _Wake up!_

“Would you mind staying for a bit?” came an unexpected request, delivered in a deep baritone, just as she was passing behind him. He hadn’t moved at all – his observation skills were quite something.

Wordlessly, she joined him, leaning against the windowsill herself. She didn’t have much of a choice, really.

In silence, the duo stood there for a while, simply existing.

Maybe he was onto something, standing in the full force of nature. Violet sighed as she closed her eyes, letting the rain stream down her face, enjoying the sensation. You just felt so alive when you made the decision to stand in the rain, to get soaked, to feel the connection with nature. The occasional flash of lightning and rumble of thunder heightened her senses, crashing down on her like waves in the ocean. The wind chilled her down to the bone, making her forget about her smarting arm and the bruises she’d have tomorrow.

“You are a remarkable woman, you know,” he said, turning a bit to look at her. “I don’t know many people who’d be able to do what you’ve done.”

Violet didn’t bother to pretend not to understand what he was saying, acknowledging him with a slight lowering of her head but keeping her silence.

“Fufufu,” he laughed softly, lifting his hand and tracing a wet lock of hair that was plastered against her sodden shirt. “And here you are, proving my point right now.”

Violet shivered at the sensation. He had lovely hands.

“It’s easy to make a choice when you don’t have any options,” she said, still looking out over the storm.

“Fufufu!” his laugh echoed in the corridor before it was swallowed by the wind. “And you do keep me responsible. Magnificent!”

His hand moved lower, tracing patterns into the back of her shirt. Violet couldn’t help but to arch her back, the sensation tingling through her bones. She could feel her breath quickening a bit and the goosebumps littering her arms were not only caused by the storm anymore.

She glanced at him through the corner of her eye, noting the smirk playing on his lips and how close he had moved. Well, two could play this game, and her patience was worn thin after the sparring session.

She turned slightly towards him, making sure her breasts strained against her sodden shirt, giving him a good view of her cleavage. 

“Someone has to, your majesty,” she said, noting the minute movements of his head as he followed her movements. _It would be so much easier to read him without the damn shades_. “There should always be a jester in the court to keep the king accountable.”

His smirk widened as his hand moved lower still, caressing her waist, “Else what would happen?”

She matched his smirk, letting one hand play with the topmost button of his shirt, the other resting on his shoulder, rubbing small circles there.

“A king without accountability is a blind king.”

“Lucky that I have your all-seeing eyes, then,” he purred, drawing her closer, large hands travelling over her hips, stroking her back, rubbing at her sodden shirt.

Violet pressed herself against him slightly, noting the hitch in his breath. _Interesting…_

“But all-seeing eyes are only as useful as what you make of them,” she murmured in his ear, standing on her toes, steadying herself against him. “It doesn’t help to look if you don’t see.”

His arms tightened around her, pressing her into his lean frame. His breath ghosted over her neck as his hands ghosted over her body.

“What do you want me to see, Violet?” he asked, lightly nipping at her earlobe. Violet couldn’t help the shiver that raced through her, or how it caused her to arch even deeper into his embrace. She let her fingers travel over his clavicle, the first two buttons of his shirt now undone. She pressed a kiss to his throat, noting how his pulse increased as she scraped her nails down his back.

“How about you let me see something instead?” she purred, pressing small kisses to the line of his jaw, ending at the corner of his mouth. The warlord groaned, causing a heady spike of power to course through Violet. It was amazing what a few soft touches could do.

“At the moment, I’ll promise to let you see anything you desire, love,” he panted, letting his hands travel over the swell of her arse. Heat pooled in her stomach at his tone and she felt a blush starting to spread over her chest and travel up her neck.

“How about the inside of your bedroom?” she inquired, scraping her teeth over his pulse point.

Without warning, she was caged against the wall, a bruising kiss pressed to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on the sensation of his cool lips on her, on the way his muscles moved as he fisted one hand in her still wet hair to grant him better access to her mouth. She moaned as he gently bit down on her lower lip, his tongue prodding for permission. The only thing that stopped her from sliding down the wall to puddle at the floor was the fact that she was pressed up against the wall by his tall frame, strong grip keeping her upright. 

A groan escaped him as she let her hand wander lower to move over his evident arousal. Panting, they broke apart, still impossibly close together. Her hand was still cupping him, teasing him, through his trousers, as his hand caressed her arse, the other hand still tangled in her hair.

“You are more than welcome to see that,” he said, giving her a small, almost chaste, kiss before straightening up and tugging her against him, draping an arm around her shoulders as he steered them towards the castle’s interior. His fingers travelled along her arm, as she loped an arm around his midriff, playing with the waistband of his trousers.

It did take a while to get back to his chambers. The castle did have so many nooks and crannies an unwary couple could get lost in if they didn’t look out.


End file.
